


History Repeats Itself

by SnakesandTea



Series: Ineffable Indulgences [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidents, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Coming In Pants, Consensual, Consensual Kink, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Desperate Crowley (Good Omens), Desperation, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Omorashi, Orgasm, Pee, Piss, The Bentley Ships It (Good Omens), Wet & Messy, Wet Clothing, Wetting, wee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakesandTea/pseuds/SnakesandTea
Summary: The Bentley’s stuck in gridlock, Crowley is rather desperate, and Aziraphale is pleased. The principality can’t help but recall his demon’s accident that fateful night – the incident which led to so many deliciously clandestine endeavors. This time, however, the angel wouldn’t have to hide his arousal.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Indulgences [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517147
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	History Repeats Itself

Brake lights glowed red as far as Crowley could see. He growled. The demon and his angel had been stuck in traffic for over an hour now; and Crowley was growing more desperate by the minute. He squirmed and rubbed his legs together. Bullocks! That fourth cup of coffee had _clearly_ been a mistake. His bladder angrily throbbed in agreement as it ballooned against his other organs. They weren’t too terribly far from the bookshop; he could make it. Probably. The demon wriggled in his seat, shifting his weight from one side to the other, and hoped Aziraphale hadn’t noticed. Chancing a glance at his cohort, it seemed the angel – who was currently staring out the window – remained oblivious. He breathed a small sigh of relief. However, the reprieve was brief as the distraction allowed a few drops of wee to dampen his underpants. Shit! He gritted his teeth and grimaced.

Another thirty minutes passed and they’d barely moved a metere. Crowley pulled the handbrake again. The simple motion caused him to leak. A full three seconds of forbidden heat flooded his crotch. Fuck! He wiggled in the cooling warmth. It was a bit exciting – having a secret wee. His cock twitched at the mischievous thought. He allowed himself to indulge the fantasy, encouraging his erection. Maybe a semi would buy him enough time.

Aziraphale watched his demon closely. Given all that adorable wriggling, he suspected his partner was rather in need of the loo. “Crowley, are you all right?” Aziraphale asked. 

He learned, rather quickly, that maintaining any semblance of a proper hard-on while bursting for a piss was borderline-impossible. Every inhale sent a new wave of sharp pain through his abdomen. The demon bounced his leg and surreptitiously pinched himself through, thankfully, still-dry jeans. “You know damn well I’m not,” he snapped. Truly, Crowley hadn’t meant to be quite so short, but his attention was keenly affixed to keeping his Bentley dry.

The angel tsked. “There’s no need for any of that, my dear,” he chastised lightly. His eyes brightened with excitement. Oh, yes, he was absolutely going to enjoy this.

A soft, pained whimper escaped Crowley’s throat as he lost a small spurt in his boxers. He wiggled, trying to find any comfortable position. Unfortunately, the seatbelt – Aziraphale insisted he wear the bloody thing—pushed against his bladder, forcing an involuntary dribble to warm his underwear. He grunted and pressed his thighs together, successfully stopping the trickle.

Feigning ignorance, the principality inquired, “What’s the matter?”

He scowled. Crowley intended to sound angry but his voice, instead, quivered, “I need a piss.” At the mention of relief, another sizeable gush wet his crotch and seeped into his jeans Oh shitshitshit! He unabashedly shoved his hand between his legs and squeezed himself.

Aziraphale’s gaze slipped to the slender hand firmly gripping the denim. He studied the dark material, noted a sizeable wet-spot, and quietly gasped. Good Lord, his demon was lusciously desperate; with good reason, as, upon closer inspection, it appeared Crowley’s bladder was visibly distended. Oh dear. “Do you think you can make it—” The demon interjected with a lurid groan. “Ah, well, then, I believe you know what you’ll have to do.”

Crowley tightened his grip, nearly yelping at the pain. “No!”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “But I thought you enjoyed relieving yourself in your clothes? Am I mistaken? Do you not pleasure yourself to thoughts of weeing in your jeans?” He teased primly.

His cock stiffened at the delicious phrasing. Those decadent convictions from his angel’s lips nearly made him cum right there – but a violent cramp slammed him back to reality. “Mm, y-yeah… but not in the Bentley, Angel,” Crowley whined. His eyes desperately pleaded behind the dark glasses. Piss eked between his fingers, his golden droplets dappling the leather. No, no, no!

Aziraphale looked pointedly at the demon’s little mishap. “Oh dear, it doesn’t seem you have much of a choice.” His erection throbbed against his trousers, begging for attention.

Another dribble wet his jeans. The promise of finally letting go, far too tantalizing for his exhausted muscles, he leaked a bit more. The little leak turned into a trickle as Crowley’s abdomen shook with the effort of trying to clamp down on the flow. “Ah! Fuck! I can’t – I can’t stop,” he groaned.

“Then don’t, my dear,” the angel answered, slipping his perfectly manicured hand into his trousers. His own underwear was rather damp as well, for far different reasons. He slid precum down his length and shivered under the glorious sensation.

Piss spurted hotly against his palm and he spread his legs, allowing his stream to gush through his jeans. Crowley moaned as resplendent relief washed over him. Piss warmed his ass, puddled around his balls, and spilled over the edge of the seat, cascading loudly to the floor. He leaned back against the headrest whilst his forceful torrent continued.

Aziraphale stroked himself as he watched Crowley flood his beloved car. He stuffed his fist in his mouth, muffling his groans, and listened closely to the demon’s urine pitter-pattering on the floorboards. Such a naughty, illicit noise! Naughtier still, he, a principality, was pleasuring himself to the sounds of a demon wetting his clothes. Oh, how he adored the rapturous, breathy moans!

The demon’s stream started to dwindle and he pushed harder, forcing a hissing spurt into his pants. And another. He grunted with a final jet and sat back, pleasantly empty. Crowley cast a glance at his angel. His breath caught as he saw the desire swirling in his deep, blue eyes.

The principality savored the sight before him, greedily thrusting into his hand. Just on the edge of his orgasm, he whispered, “Crowley,” and that silky voice replied ‘ _Angel’_. Ah! It sent him off, shuddering with a sensational climax. He creamed his boxers, the pearly stain seeping indecently through his trousers. Aziraphale panted and silently reveled in the obscene splendor of ejaculate splattered in his underthings. Eventually, the principality snapped his fingers, vanishing every trace of their endeavor. He straightened his waistcoat, folded his hands in his lap, and settled back into the seat with a satiated sigh.

Crowley closely inspected the leather upholstery before nodding his head in thanks. He pulled the Bentley forward, crawled a few centimeters, and stopped. “Guess we didn’t miss much, then, Angel?” The demon asked, his voice softer than he intended.

“Hm?” It took him a moment to process the question. Ah, the traffic. “No, I don’t believe we did, dear.” Aziraphale knew that while his demon enjoyed their games, he was often rather vulnerable after wetting himself. Today was no exception. He gently put his hand on Crowley’s knee, giving it a light squeeze. The small hint of a smile on his demon’s face assured him he’d made the right decision.

Fifteen minutes from the bookshop, Crowley felt a hard pang in his lower abdomen and cringed. Bullocks! He pressed his thighs together, willing his exhausted bladder to hold on. A tiny dribble wet his underwear, but he confidently staunched the flow. Strengthening his resolve, he eased the Bentley a little faster. He could make it – at least that’s what he told himself. Three precious minutes later, another spurt leaked into his boxers. Tiny bit, nothing to worry about, he silently fibbed. Though, the demon did press the car faster still.

Crowley wiggled as they flew past blurry shop-fronts and eateries. He ignored Aziraphale’s half-hearted fretting over his driving. A small groan escaped his throat as more piss streamed into his underwear. The demon realized he wasn’t going to make it. He whipped the car onto the shoulder and threw it in park. Crowley’s breath hitched as his spent muscles contracted. Urine hissed into his boxers and quickly soaked through his jeans. “Fuck,” he whispered, piss puddling around him again.

“Oh, oops! Are you having another wee in your Bentley, dear?” Aziraphale asked, lust sparking in his eyes.

Far too blissfully relieved to argue, he mumbled, “Mmhmm,” and kept thoroughly wetting his car. That delicious, desperate release of pressure was utterly intoxicating.

“Naughty boy.”

“’M a demon, aren’t I?”

“Ex-demon, yes dear,” he corrected, discretely palming himself through his trousers. Twice in one night, what a treat! Aziraphale groaned under his breath as he stroked his length faster. His gaze fixed on his demon’s saturated crotch – and the golden liquid just kept coming! He bucked his hips harder, no longer trying to be inconspicuous. The angel grunted, thrusting almost violently into his hand. He shouted as he writhed with terrible pleasure, once again ejaculating in his trousers.

Crowley shook his hips and sighed as he pushed out the last couple drops. Given the borderline-orgasmic relief coupled with that tidbit of friction, the demon’s sudden erection shouldn’t have been such a surprise. Nevertheless, Crowley looked at his wayward cock pressing against his jeans and gasped. He thrust his hand beneath his waistband, into the cooling mess, and grasped his length. Slow, steady motions elicited an impatient grunt from the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and slid his fingers faster. Crowley pictured Aziraphale’s lust-filled eyes, the captivating intensity with which the deep, blue pools had focused on his saturated crotch. His breath caught. Crowley panted and groaned, frantically stroking his cock. He was close, oh FUCK was he close. The demon parted his lips in a silent moan. 

Aziraphale watched with rapt attention as Crowley chased his climax. His moonlit silhouette accentuated the tousled hair and perfectly parted thin lips. Oh my, he was utterly striking! Aziraphale sat, absolutely entranced by the sight of Crowley unabashedly, primally masturbating in the puddle of his accident.

Ngk! He leaned back and arched hips as he exploded in his jean, his hot semen bursting into the cool mess. Crowley grunted. His trembling hand still diligently massaging his length until he couldn’t cum anymore. He laid his head back, his breaths coming in choppy pants.

After a few savory minutes, Aziraphale felt the tingly rush of a cleaning miracle and wiggled. He smiled brightly. “Oh! Thank you!”

“My treat.” Crowley smirked. “So, Angel, was it everything you wanted?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Oh, yes, my dear, and more!”

“More?”

The angel giggled. “Your encore,” he replied, glancing at his demon’s now-dry crotch.

“Mm, yeah. Wasn’t planned, that bit.”

“Well, I rather enjoyed it,” Aziraphale remarked confidently.

Crowley followed the principality’s gaze and his smirk widened. “Obviously,” he replied, eyebrow raised, looking pointedly at the once-again tented trousers.

Aziraphale crossed his legs and turned his attention to the road. A slender hand groped his erection through the material. “My dear!” He gasped.

“Round three, then, Angel?” Crowley asked, grinning.


End file.
